


Someone to Hold

by erde



Category: Marvel 616
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, M/M, Post-Secret Empire (Marvel), Secret Marriage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-16
Updated: 2018-07-16
Packaged: 2019-06-05 14:07:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15172355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erde/pseuds/erde
Summary: Anything you want,Tony would have said during the rehearsal, and Steve, in turn, would have wrapped an arm around his waist and whispered in his ear,Let's elope.





	Someone to Hold

**Author's Note:**

  * For [navaan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/navaan/gifts).



> Written for the prompt _wedding day,_ though I saw _secret marriage_ among your likes and ran with it. This story is set after Secret Empire and borrows a few details from Waid's Cap run.
> 
> Many thanks to ishipallthings for beta.

He had thought, when he found it in him to imagine such things, that it would be spring. Flowers in bloom, the kind that others would have handpicked in their stead to bedeck the halls, to make up the tastefully arranged centerpieces, to hang from the arch under which they would stand and exchange their vows.

 _Anything you want,_ Tony would have said during the rehearsal, and Steve, in turn, would have wrapped an arm around his waist and whispered in his ear, _Let's elope._

Steve liked it more than he should have, the idea of having a picture perfect wedding planned to a tee and then, right at the last minute, to ditch everything in favor of something spontaneous, expectations be damned. It would have been wasteful, for one, but he couldn't help being fond of the gesture behind it. _Did they call it off?_ he pictured an onlooker asking, to which someone in the know would reply, _No, they eloped. They simply couldn't wait._

They hadn't considered having an actual ceremony, not in earnest, not once the reality of the step they were about to take sank in. It meant that they never had the occasion to disagree on minor details such as who would be seated where or what kind of cake flavor was best. Small, trivial things. For them, a luxury.

It was also a Monday, deeply ordinary. A chilly day, overcast, the kind that might have put him in a funk if he had been on his own, out of ways to keep himself busy other than by pacing his old apartment like a caged animal. Maybe it would rain later, too. He had already felt the cold seeping through him when he stepped into the balcony earlier in the morning, and feeling only a little embarrassed, he chose to go right back into bed, back to Tony, who wrapped his arms around him without asking a single question.

Steve turned to steal a glance at him, feeling warm at the memory, but Tony's mind seemed to be elsewhere. He placed one hand on his shoulder, light, gentle. "Shellhead," he said.

"I don't suppose this is what you actually had in mind," Tony said without looking at him.

"What, being married to you? It's exactly what I had in mind. Why else would I have proposed?"

Tony's lips quirked up, but it didn't reach his eyes. "You know what I mean." He undid his tie for perhaps the third time before he let out a sigh and gave up altogether. "Are you sure about this?"

"Are you not?"

"Answering a question with a question, really." Tony shook his head, and Steve tried very hard not to take it personal, not to think, _I thought this made you happy. I thought I did._

"I want you more than life," Tony said low, disarmingly honest in the way he usually was when feelings were involved. Steve hadn't always let them reach him. Tony's hope, his despair, his pain. Often, he had steeled himself against all of it, far more times than he should have, especially when anger got the better of him. This time, however, his heart shrank a little. It was the truth, he knew. Tony did want him that much. Sometimes Steve wished he didn't, at least not with this kind of intensity, not at the expense of himself. Some other times it had been one of the few things that kept him from going to the dogs, Tony loving him exactly like this, with the permanence of universal constants, with the strength of things that can't be easily broken apart or rendered into splinters.

"I wanted to give you everything you dreamed of," Tony said as if any of it were his fault. "Much more than this."

 _This_ was a secret they had agreed to keep, at least for now. _This_ was them signing papers away from the prying eyes of friends and strangers alike, and all because of Steve.

It wasn't that he was ashamed. He had no doubts, either. On the contrary, he wanted him back, more than anything. It just hadn't seemed right to flaunt his happiness for everyone to see, not when the country was still reeling from everything _he_ had done, from every tragedy, big and small, that Steve had failed to prevent.

 _It's not your fault, Steve,_ Tony had said, but it was hard for him to believe it. Truth be told, he probably didn't even deserve a shot at the kind of normalcy others had been robbed of. On the other hand, he didn't think he could stand aside while life passed him by again, not this time, not anymore. He could have, before. Not for the first time, he could have made his hopes and wants small enough not to matter, stacked against the weight of being who he was. But something in him had changed, turned brittle. Now, the thought of letting go was unbearable.

"But you're giving me everything I want," Steve said. He held Tony's face in his hands, saw his eyes grow big, that deep, dark blue. "I need you, not any of those other things."

Perhaps he wouldn't have done without a traditional wedding had things been different. He was, after all, a little on the side of old-fashioned. But he didn't need a string quartet, nor a sun-drenched gazebo especially built for the occasion, nor the thousands of dollars Tony would have spent in a single day to make everything look the part. He only needed this, a measure of the ordinary among the extraordinary. Getting married to the one he loved, as simple as that. For this was the only thing that mattered, that they loved each other, that they couldn't wait.

The tips of Steve's fingers traced his cheekbones, the angles of his face. Tony let out a puff of breath and looked at him, his smile a soft flickering curve, something unsteady. "Okay," he said, clearing his throat. "Pinch me, because I still can't believe this is happening."

Steve kissed him instead, soft and tender. He held Tony's nape and touched his palm to the small of his back, focusing on his warmth, his presence. Tony held him, nothing but the press of his fingers against his side, but his touch kindled light, stirred want. _Later, later,_ Steve thought. He broke the kiss with a smile, and before he stepped back, he whispered in Tony's ear, "Be mine."

Tony gave him a coy smile. "Oh, but I've always been."

Steve picked the ends of Tony's tie between his fingers and tugged lightly so that he came closer. Tony followed and put his hands in his pockets to appear casual, all the while he looked at him through his lashes. Steve huffed a laugh and shook his head, working on the knot. His cheeks felt warm. He took the leftover boutonnière from the nightstand and pinned it on the lapel of Tony's jacket. Set against his fingers, the flowers were far too small, delicate. He caressed the petals with utmost care and let his hand slide until he could feel the rhythm of Tony's heart.

When Steve looked up, Tony's eyes were impossibly bright. "Tell me again, how did this start with poker nights of all things?"

"It didn't," Steve said, laughing, and the thing was, it shouldn't have been this easy to fall into routines he had thought long forgotten, to be close to him and not feel that old resentment waiting to bubble up to the surface.

He remembered, of course. Even without the serum, there was no way he could have forgotten all the things they put each other through. _That Tony put them through,_ the old him might have said, but he wanted to think that he had learned a thing or two since then. After all, he had given as good as he had gotten, hadn't he? In anger, he, too, had done unacceptable things.

Tony covered the back of Steve's hand with his own, stroking his knuckles with the pad of his thumb, and Steve smiled, relishing the closeness.

And to think that he almost hadn't allowed himself this.

He had just come back from being unwritten from reality, from being trapped into ice once again, and even after all of it, Steve had picked up his shield and fought with all he had because that was what he did, because he didn't know how to stop, and that terrible privilege, to make a difference in the world, had to be enough. Wishing for more than a chance to atone and make things right would have been greedy, and yet Tony was still there in the end just as he had been in the beginning. That had to mean something. It had to mean everything.

"It started with—"

"Me, slipping money into your checking account, was it? Bribing you into—"

"It did start with you. The future did. When I heard your voice for the first time, that's when it all began."

Tony bowed his head. There were dimples in his cheeks and crinkles around his eyes, and his heart was fluttering just below Steve's fingers. "You always know how to shut me up most effectively."

"I take full responsibility for that," Steve said softly, and pressing his lips against the crown of Tony's head, he asked, "Shall we?"

Tony nodded and took the arm Steve offered. "I'll wake up any second now," he whispered, mostly to himself, "and then—"

"And then you'll find me right next to you," Steve said matter-of-factly, leaving no room for dissent. "For as long as you'll have me."

"Steve," Tony said.

If they kept kissing, they wouldn't make it in time, but he couldn't help himself. Even in the half-light of the passageway, Tony was glowing. It was what he had longed to see since the day started, what no one else had the privilege to see at this moment. For Steve's eyes only, Tony's happiness.

Circumstances could change in the blink of an eye. They knew this better than anyone else did, how easily things could slip out of their reach, lost in time. So they carved peace out of the chaos their lives always turned into and did what they probably should have done a long time ago.

Below, inside the studio, the officiant was waiting.

The three of them had met the day before in an inconspicuous, little coffee shop in downtown D.C. People were bustling about just outside, trying to keep up with their tight schedules. Rush hour. Seeing them come and go, it was hard to tell that anything had happened at all during these past months, that Carol and Tony had almost fought to death a few blocks from here, that a monster who wore his face, who stood for the opposite of everything Steve believed in, had almost run the country into the ground.

Steve had apologized for being lost in thought, but she shrugged it off. _Jo,_ he recalled. Her handshake had been firm, warm. Tony knew her from when he had flown out of town one time to attend the wedding of one of his employees. _It was a lovely ceremony,_ he had said. Steve had taken a liking to her from the beginning.

"This is it," Tony said, one hand on the doorknob. "Speak now or forever hold your peace."

"Hush," he said, kissing Tony's temple before he ushered him inside.

After they exchanged pleasantries, Steve went through his vows again, as if forgetting them was even possible for the likes of him. He knew all the words in the right, precise order. He had practiced them in front of a mirror, during his daily morning run and late at night, while Tony slept. It was completely unnecessary. He had wanted to do it anyway, as if that could make it real sooner, as if repeating them enough times could make him his for good. Make him Tony's.

Maybe he was far more impatient than he had it in him to admit. Maybe the real reason why he had wanted to keep the wedding a secret wasn't out of some deeply felt sense of what he owed others, but out of fear that something would happen and he wouldn't get to have this—Tony, a moment's respite, his own happily-ever-after.

Steve glanced at the clock. He would become Tony's lawfully wedded husband in minutes.

He had looked it up on a discussion board some time after Tony had said yes. That's how long it was supposed to take, a few minutes at most. But what he hadn't taken into account was that they would stare into each other's eyes and break into a smile without meaning to; that their voices would come out wrong here and there and they would have to clear their throats and start again; that wrapped around Tony's hand, Steve's fingers would be the ones to quiver.

He palmed the ring through the lining of his vest. He knew the words by heart. _A token of my love._

 _He loved you,_ he remembered instead. It was an echo, the ghost of someone else's memories, the one true thing that bastard had said.

His grip tightened around Tony's hand. Not enough to be painful, but enough for him to notice that something was amiss, surely, and what was he doing? _Sorry,_ he wanted to say, except that Tony might misunderstand and think he was getting cold feet and—

"I give you this ring," he heard Jo whisper, patient and gentle, low enough that only Steve would hear.

"I give you this ring as a token of my love," Steve said, summoning himself. He breathed in, focusing on one thing at a time. Tony's hands were warm, solid. Gold had always looked good on him, and if it had been summer instead of fall, the sun would have gilded his skin, showering him with light. He looked into his eyes. "Because without you, I'm lost. Through you, I found purpose again. Because of you, I found somewhere to belong. In you, I found my home."

Tony let out a shuddering sigh, eyes set on the wedding band circling his finger before he looked into Steve's eyes, a soft, little smile on his lips. "I give you this ring as a token of my devotion. To you, who has always been my rudder, my north. Because without you, I'm only half as good as I could ever hope to be."

The corner of Steve's eyes felt damp. To others, these might have been just words, but they were much more than that for them. They had lived through all of it. They had been to hell and back, and even if they weren’t in plain sight, they had the scars to prove it. Layers upon layers of scar tissue where gaping wounds had once stood.

It was the reason why he had been afraid when he first kissed Tony. Deadly afraid, the way he never got when he was in the middle of a battle and he had to pull himself up from his bootstraps because there was no other option but carrying on. All that fear, and the moment he knew for sure that he had him, he forgot all about it. Snapshots from that night came to him now. Tony's soft lips, the tickle of his beard. Warmth, _rightness._ His world dissolving into nothing at the urgency of Tony's touch.

 

* * *

 

Tony had just won the game again, as usual. _I don't know why we even bother playing. Now I'm broke all over again,_ Clint would often complain, only to return next time to the tune of _I'm a glutton for punishment and you're all enablers,_ which no one took seriously.

In a way, they were one big family, perhaps in the only way it really mattered, and as with all families, they had their little traditions. Tried-and-true pastimes they picked up again after all manner of disasters hit, as if they couldn't shake the habit. Barbecues, movie nights, baseball games. Anchors to keep them sane.

He had missed out on all of it while he was out there hitting the road, which had kind of been the purpose of leaving. Each detail reminded him of the vulnerabilities the other him had exploited because all of them trusted Steve, unquestionably, unflinchingly, much more than he deserved. Familiarity had become unbearable then, something he tried his best to run away from while still doing his part. And now, after coming back, he couldn't get enough of it.

"You keep adding more to my account each time. Don't think I haven’t noticed," Steve said. The night was warm enough that Tony had come home on his shirtsleeves, holding his jacket over one shoulder.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Tony said, feigning ignorance, and then, upon seeing Steve's unimpressed look, "Okay, okay, I'll make sure to get it all back next time."

"You always do," he said, fond.

They were in the middle of making arrangements. A new-old lineup, new headquarters. They were stationed in a vacant complex temporarily, a former Stark Industries' subsidiary, and with the last meeting of the day behind them, he and Tony ended up separating from the rest as they were wont to do, talking about nothing, about everything.

"That small town charm," Steve said. Tales from the road. A firsthand Americana experience.

"I can see how you would enjoy that. Polite neighbors. Some place where everybody knows your name. Literally, seeing as how that town was named after you," Tony said, raising his eyebrows, a smile dangling from his lips.

Steve was smiling back before he knew it. He remembered how easy it used to be, being with him, all of his walls coming down. "I would get antsy, eventually. Don't forget where I grew up."

Tony shook his head. "How could I? It's been a while since I heard one of those colorful Lower East Side stories."

Steve took a deep breath and looked down, still smiling. "Summers were quite something. Noisy, overcrowded—"

"And you loved them, didn't you?" 

"I didn't get sick as easily as I did during the winter. There was my birthday, too. Ma would bake a cake for me. Sometimes she would even get me something. Hell if I know how she managed. Some second-hand children's book, a bird whistle, marbles." He had a favorite one, a swirl of blue encased within a perfect sphere of translucent glass.

He looked up, seeing that same shade.

Tony's eyes were striking. Steve wasn't discovering anything new. He had always thought so. Still, there were things he hadn't let himself think about before, not very deeply. First, because they were the best of friends and he hadn't wanted to complicate things unnecessarily, hadn't wanted to lose him over something only Steve seemed to want. Later, because their shared history had become fraught with landmines, with barbed wire coiled tight around each memory.

 _Never again,_ Steve had sworn. He thought he had carved it into his soul, after everything. But not much had changed in the long run, had it? They were a little older now, a little wearier, and Tony was still Tony.

Vaguely, he thought he should be mad at that. He remembered those early reports, Hank saying that they couldn't made an educated guess about his prognosis because they didn't understand his physiology, because the experiments Tony had made on his own body over the years were far too extensive to know what they were dealing with.

Tony was still Tony, and that had saved him. It was hard to stay mad about it when the alternative would have been losing him. 

_And I almost did,_ he thought, and the finality of it left him breathless. He had already taken a damning step forward without thinking, the way he would sometimes jump and only come up with a plan on his way down, though he often didn't need to. Tony would usually be there to catch him, and a part of him was still expecting that now, even if he shouldn't.

They had hurt each other deeply. Steve had done things he wasn't proud of. He was slow to forgive and quick to remember old wounds as if they were freshly dealt, and out of those, many wore Tony's name. They were the ones that had cut deeper, close to the marrow. The ones that still ached when he less expected them to. But when all was said and done, he was still Tony. _Shellhead._ It occurred to Steve that maybe he had never stopped being.

"Steve?" Tony whispered, sounding a little lost. In answer, Steve pressed their mouths together in a tentative touch, feather-like. It was control he didn't really have over himself, but he wanted to be gentle with him, to make it up for each time he hadn't been.

His hands were draped on Tony's shoulders as lightly as possible, but Tony froze all the same, and something cold made its way into the pit of Steve's stomach in turn. It had been a mistake, the one he had always been so afraid of making. He had gotten carried away; he had assumed that any of what he had glimpsed in the past still held true after what he had done. _Entitled,_ he thought, feeling something bitter climb up to his throat. _You're an entitled, foolish man._

And then the impossible happened. Slowly, as if he had just come awake, Tony got his bearings and held him close before Steve had the chance to spin on his heel and walk away. Tony was fierce and warm and wonderful, and Steve's eyes stung all of a sudden, unbidden.

Voices carried from the hall, the echo of footfalls edging closer, and Steve should have cared about that, but he was loathe to let go of him, so he didn't. It was Tony who broke the kiss, always the most grounded in reality out of the two of them. His eyes were darting from side to side, bright and searching, a silent question there.

"I didn't mean to—" Steve started. _I didn't mean to spring this on you, to complicate your life like this, to take advantage of you._ They were all lies. Even if he hadn't thought things through, he knew what the outcome would be. He knew things would change between them, but he had been too caught up in his own feelings to realize that he should have treaded lightly.

"Ah," Tony said, eyes growing dull. He was extrapolating God only knew what from the look on Steve's face, coming to the wrong conclusions at light speed because that was how Tony's mind worked, inflicting pain on himself as quickly as he could think of possibilities for the betterment of mankind. "It's fine, don't worry," he said with a small smile, patting Steve's arm.

"No, you're not getting it," Steve said, anger building up inside him. Anger at everyone who ever made Tony feel like he was a toy you could play with if it struck your fancy and then discard once you got tired of it. Anger at himself, because he was the one who left just when he needed him the most, because he was the one who almost bashed his skull in and then left him lying on the pavement, bleeding.

He cupped Tony's cheek to get his point across, trying for a smile even though he was still buzzing with the need to punch something, the wall, himself, whoever was roaming the aisles right now instead of staying put. "Someone's coming," Steve said, a little shaky.

"Yes," Tony said, pulling himself together in a matter of seconds, and Steve loved him more than anything right that very instant. He gave Tony a nod and then they were on the move. Steve deferred to him, who knew the place better than he did, following in his steps as he turned around a corner and went for the second door after they turned again to the left.

The lights came on with a slight buzz, a few seconds delay during which he saw light and darkness playing on Tony's features. He looked like a deer caught in headlights, and Steve was sorry that he hadn't been patient enough to ask him out to dinner first, to gauge his interest, to do this properly. He turned to lock the door and passed a hand through his hair, trying it on his tongue— _I'm sorry._ A few words. Easy as pie.

"I don't want to apologize, not for this," is what came out of his mouth instead. He cursed under his breath, but it was out there already. He just had to own it. "Does it seem like such a bad idea to you? It doesn't feel like one to me. It's the only thing that's made any sense lately."

"Steve, you can't be—" Tony said, aiming for measured even if he was shaking ever so slightly. "You, what you just went through would turn anyone's world upside down. You were dealt such a shitty hand, you—"

"I know full well what I want," Steve said, and he tried his best not to sound like he always did, so damn full of himself. He smiled at Tony, softening his words. "Give me some credit."

Tony was still looking at him a little wide-eyed, and there was nothing Steve wanted more than to hold him, but it had to wait. He had to get it all out in the open. It was important for Tony to know, for him to say.

"All this time away did me good. I saw so many things, and I—" He wondered if it would be bold of him if he reached out and took Tony's hand in his, if it would be unwelcome. "It's easy, I think, to forget the kind of things others struggle with, no matter how small. It's easy to lose sight of them for the big picture."

"But you've never done that," Tony whispered. "Lose sight of them."

He had lost sight of everything because of him. The city was burning, entire blocks in shambles, and he hadn't paid heed until people held him down to prevent him from dealing the final blow. The world was ending, for God's sake, and all he could think of was him.

"You would think, but no. I was blind to so many things, Tony," Steve said, and now he had to touch him, had to feel him. Tony didn't draw back. He didn't flinch. He only turned his palm over so that he could give Steve's hand a little squeeze, and Steve felt like he could finally breathe.

"I remembered how sturdy people are. They pick up the pieces. They rebuild. And in between, they push themselves to new heights, they live." _They fall in love._ "Fighting the good fight, _avenging_ —it's part of me. I don't think I would know what to do with myself if I couldn't do this anymore. I tried before and it didn't lead anywhere, and at the same time, doing nothing but this . . . I thought I could do it. To go from town to town, wherever I was needed. I wasn't in a rush to settle down. I thought I wasn't. But I'm the kind who does. The kind who needs a home to return to."

"Steve," Tony said gently.

"The Avengers have always been that for me. It's the reason why I always come back to the team, to us. Because it's always been you, in the end. Because it's never been the same without you, and I thought . . . Am I reading this wrong? Am I too late?"

"No," Tony said. His chest was falling and rising all too quickly. "No on both accounts."

Steve swallowed, cupping Tony's cheek with shaky fingers. "So, can I—"

 

* * *

 

"Can I kiss him now?" Steve said, loud against the silence. It came out a little rough, just shy of grumpy, which made all three of them chuckle.

"You may," Jo said.

Steve smiled against Tony's mouth, reveling in the fact that he didn't have to apologize for being happy, not here. He pressed his forehead against Tony's, closing his eyes and holding him there for a few seconds more. Maybe he even laughed. It was the kind of thing to do, he thought, when you got to keep someone who made up your whole world.

Afterwards, he stared at the ink carved into the crisp white of the paper, at the precise curves of Tony's signature matching his own, and then it was done. Tony gave him a peck and winked at him before he saw Jo to the door, and finding himself alone, Steve brushed his ring with reverent fingers. He had made it. He was home.

When Tony returned, a smirk playing on his lips, Steve said with a smile, "What took you so long?"

"Oh, you know," he said, hands tucked inside his pockets again, drawing attention to his hips. "I had to bribe her too. You can put your mind at ease, though. I believe our secret is safe."

It was a joke, of course. The Avengers had saved her daughter-in-law and her grandson once, she had told them. If Tony hadn't insisted, she wouldn't have even charged them.

"So," Steve said, taking a step forward.

"So, we have a mansion all for ourselves until the weekend, and I believe the day is fairly young," Tony said.

Beautiful as it was, it wasn't their old home, not that it mattered. Anything would have been just as good as long as he had him. "Tony," Steve said, just for the pleasure it gave him to call his name, to claim it back as something that was his to say.

_I want you to see this, Tony. More than anything—I need you to see what I do next._

His name had been on _his_ lips too. The other him. He had spouted all this bullshit—his words still rang inside him, sometimes—and then he had said Tony's name as if he had the right. Steve wanted to break his nose just for that.

"Hey," Tony said softly, smoothing the lines on Steve's forehead. "Where did you go?"

"I'm right here."

He knew he sounded rough. He knew that some days the memories would get to be too much, that the road ahead was paved with difficulties. But he didn't want to think about any of it right now.

His hands went for Tony's hips. Sweeping him off his feet was easy as anything, even if Tony was no longer as thin as he had been before. 

The first time Steve saw him after he made it back home, Tony had looked a little paler, a little thinner, more tired than usual. It was written in the lines on his body, in the sharper contours of his face, subtle differences that he knew how to spot at once because he had stood at his side for years. He had Tony committed to memory. He remembered his old scars, even if they were now gone. He could tell when he was quietly elated, when his sadness was deafening. Even with all the lies and all the secrets that had once hung between them, he knew him to his very essence. That he wasn't made of iron, but that he had a heart carved from gold.

"Do we get to call each other dear from now on?" Tony mused, playing with his hair.

Steve chuckled. "I'm taking you upstairs now."

"Yes, dear."

He had to set him down so that Tony let go of his jacket, toed off his shoes, stepped out of his pants. He stood in his stocking feet, garters that Steve had picked on a whim framing his calves. Otherwise, he looked perfectly dressed for the occasion, prim and proper except for the way he was looking at Steve. The knot of his tie had held despite his intermittent fiddling, so Steve now had the chance to let it come undone, to undo the top buttons of his shirt and press his mouth against his bare skin.

Tony gasped his name. He still wasn't distracted enough that he would forget to push Steve's jacket past his shoulders, and Steve took that as a challenge.

"I thought you were calling me dear," Steve teased, whispering in his ear.

"Beloved," Tony said instead, and a thrill went down Steve's spine.

He slid one hand under Tony's shirt and skimmed it down his back. Earlier, Steve had kissed him here, running his hands along the expanse of his perfect sun-kissed skin; he had felt Tony arch his body against his and melt in his arms, trusting.

 _I don't want to hurt you,_ he had thought. A part of him was still afraid of the power he held, of his anger, of how easy it was to let it loose. A part of him was afraid, too, of the power Tony held over him without even meaning to, of how easy it was to let every slight make its way into his heart, where it grew unmeasurable, all-consuming.

He was afraid, but fear had never made him want to stop fighting for what he believed in.

"Tony," he whispered now, and the sound of his name grounded him. He let his fingers slide down to the small of Tony's back, and then lower, to cup his rear. His muscles clenched in Steve's hands, and a moan escaped from his lips. Tony always answered beautifully to his touch, raw and honest. There was no room for pretense here, for lies.

Steve closed his eyes and kissed Tony's neck. The scent of him was layered, crisply sweet, a touch woody. He mouthed endearments against the sharp lines of his collarbone, and letting his fingers roam once again, Steve reached between his cheeks to withdraw the plug he had eased into Tony earlier, rounding him to kiss his nape.

Beads of water had clung to Tony's skin then, sliding freely as he bowed and pressed his hands against the glass wall of the shower stall, perfectly still and beautiful as if his body had been sculpted by a loving hand.

"Steve," Tony said when he looked over his shoulder and saw him reach for the lube, a little breathless. "That was the point of the plug, that I'd be ready for you. I'm ready, I don't need—"

"Shh," Steve answered, kissing him quiet. "I want to make sure. And besides, didn't you say we had the place for ourselves until the weekend? Be patient, Tony."

"I hate it when my plans backfire like—" His breath got caught the moment Steve fingered his entrance. He knew it was a different kind of sensation, the warmth of flesh, the shape of fingers as they bent inside him in a come hither motion. He enjoyed it when Tony did that for him while he took him in his mouth. "Did you just chuckle?"

"If I did, the joke's on me," Steve said, hoarse. Tony was slick and loose, and he felt a stab of pleasure, a rush of blood to his head. Lube had begun to drip down Tony's thigh, and perching his fingers on Tony's shoulder, he made him turn. Tony was breathing hard, almost vibrating under his skin, and still he found it in him to reach for Steve's belt, to let his pants drop until they were pooling around his ankles.

"I'm ready," Tony said.

 

* * *

 

Later, as they lay together, Steve intertwined his fingers with Tony's. Their rings glinted in the pale light filling the bedroom. Sooner or later they would have to get up and see what they would do about lunch, but for now Steve was content enough to stay in bed.

His smile turned sheepish when he saw the marks he had left on Tony's body. Heat shot through him at the memory, at how easy it had been to hold Tony while he wrapped his legs around Steve's waist and moved against him, tight and perfect; at how sweet it had been the sound of his name on Tony's lips as he came undone in his arms; at how beautiful Tony had looked the moment he lay him down on the bed and licked the last traces of warmth from his chest.

"I love them," Tony said, guessing at what he was thinking. He was circling one finger around a patch of bruised skin, looking a little smug.

"You would," Steve said in a small voice. He cleared his throat. "So, no buyer's remorse?"

"I would have to be a goddamn fool," Tony said, and Steve let out a deeply held sigh and tucked his face in the crook of Tony's neck.

 

* * *

 

"Marry me," Steve said. They had stopped by the side of a road while cars rushed past, more color and sound than detail. He didn't think anyone would pay attention to them, that at most they would think he was working on his bike while Tony waited for him to be done.

Tony smiled. "Just because I said yes to the baseball game? I do like to spend time with you, you know." 

"No, it doesn't have anything to do with that. Just, marry me," he said, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw how Tony grew very still. He turned to face him then, still crouched on the ground. He wiped his hands on his jeans, then wrapped his hand on the handlebar just to have something to hold onto. It wasn't his shield, but it would have to do.

"I've meant to ask for a long time now," he started again. His heart was racing. "It just didn't seem like the right time before, and then there was that mission, and I thought, maybe there's no such thing as the right time. I thought it could be a private thing, first. If you don't mind. Just the two of us, and then, later, we could tell everybody when we're ready."

He frowned when he realized that Tony hadn't said anything yet. It was hard to get a read on him with his sunglasses on, with his lips pressed into a firm line. A different kind of armor. "You still haven't said yes," Steve said, feeling foolish. "You don't have to. I just wanted to spend my life with you, that's all."

"Could you repeat that? The gist of it," Tony whispered, his voice thick with emotion. Steve's heart swelled.

"Let's get married, Shellhead."

Perfectly away from sight, Tony covered Steve's hand with his own. "Let's do that, Winghead."


End file.
